


seven texts and three calls

by palateens



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dysfunctional Family, Hospitalization, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Secret Relationship, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-18 14:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: He sits up immediately. He hasn’t heard her voice this bad in years.





	seven texts and three calls

**Author's Note:**

> This is a universe adjacent to [Out of Gas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651071/chapters/23567766) where Kent burns out of the NHL in early 2014 (long before Epikekegster) in a very big way. Please mind the tags.
> 
> For [Pimms Week](https://pimmsweek.tumblr.com/). Prompt: Functional Exes

2015

Jack gets a call at 4:43 on a Sunday in late Spring. He was about to get up to get ready for checking practice with Bittle, so the ringing of his phone doesn’t irritate him. He reaches for it with his eyes half open. He yawns into his arms as he answers the call. 

“Hello?” he says. 

“Jack,” his mother’s voice comes through tight and quiet. 

He sits up immediately. He hasn’t heard her voice this bad in years. Not since—  

“What happened?” he asks. 

She doesn’t answer right away. A few muffled sobs come through the phone.

“Maman—”

“Kenny’s in the hospital,” Alicia says. “He just got out of surgery.” 

Jack’s blood runs cold. He watched last night’s game. Nothing happened to Kent. Kent was fine. He got checked maybe twice—it doesn’t make sense. There’s no reason for it. 

“What’s going on?” 

Alicia sniffles on the other end of the line. “He’s in Vegas. They tried calling you earlier. I don’t think they had your current number.” 

His face feels numb. Why would they call him? Who—  

Jack remembers the ring at the back of his desk drawer. The one he hasn’t worn since the end of his sophomore year when Kent tried to visit. He runs a hand through his hair. Of course they tried to call him. Kenny would never change his emergency contact if Jack didn’t explicitly ask him to. 

The room is eerily dark. Jack tries to turn on his lamp to see if that will make him feel less cold, less in shock. It does nothing. 

“Jack,” Alicia says finally. “I won’t make you do anything. But I think you should go see him.” 

Bile climbs up his throat. He swallows it harshly. The temperature in the room drops another few degrees. The team has the playoffs to think about and prepare for. The team needs him. Something in the back of his head asks when was the last time he thought the same about his husband. When was the last time Kenny came first? 

“Yea...ok,” he says mechanically. “Can you buy me a ticket.” 

“Sure, sweetie,” she says softly. “Mariana’s already there. I’ll let her know you’re coming.” 

Jack nods, not really thinking about whether she’ll understand his affirmation in the silence. He doesn’t think he can form proper sentences right now. He throws some clothing and a Samwell jersey into a duffle bag. He takes the ring out of his drawer, staring at it for an eternity. The inscription on the inside reads “para mi vida y mi luz.” He shudders as he puts it on. 

He leaves a sticky note on Shitty’s door, saying he’s leaving town for a family emergency. He texts Bittle on his way to the commuter train, saying “something came up. I’m sorry.” 

The only thing that keeps him company from the train station to the airport is the ring on his finger, glinting at least once every fucking block. It burns a hole in his heart, reminding him that he hasn’t been much of a husband lately. He hasn’t been much of anything other than a hockey player. Getting married was supposed to fix that; going to Samwell was supposed to fix that. He thinks he has gotten nearly as far in life as he thought he was going to. That he’s a week away from potentially winning a championship and signing with a team that supports him. But that means nothing where his personal life is concerned. 

Airport security moves too slow but the automatic walkways move too fast. The airport is dull and grey. It reminds Jack of Kent’s eyes the last time he saw him. His crestfallen expression is permanently etched into his brain. He checks the news to see if someone will give him any indication of what happened. Not a single headline about Kent Parson appears on any major news outlet. The world went to sleep thinking Kenny was ok. 

Jack went to sleep thinking Kenny was better off without him. 

He spends the flight with his head between his knees, trying to drown out his anxiety. He takes a breath, and then two, and then three until the guilt isn’t as loud. Maybe he could’ve been there for Kenny. Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference. He doesn’t know because he hasn’t bothered to ask how Kenny is in almost a year. 

Eventually, the plane touches down in Vegas. Eventually, the Uber driver drops him off at the address of the hospital Alicia texted him. He goes to the information desk and asks where can he find his spouse. The nurse asks what’s the last name. 

“Vasquez,” he says with a dry and cracked voice. 

The nurse types something in. After a minute, she shakes her head. “We don’t have anything here with that name.” 

Jack swallows, remembering how Kenny grabbed paperwork to change his name as they were leaving the courthouse five years ago. He made an offhand joke about taking Jack’s name. 

“Can you check under Zimmermann? Please?” 

She nods, typing again. “First name and date of birth?” 

Jack closes his eyes. “Kent, July 4th 1991.” 

She nods directing him to take the elevator up to the fourth floor to post op. He doesn’t process much between her giving him directions and him stumbling across a waiting room with Kenny’s younger sister, Izzy, sleeping in one of the chairs. He nudges her head. 

Izzy jerks as she wakes up, groaning as she wipes her nose on her sweatshirt. She’s going to Georgetown if her hoodie is anything to go off of. Jack feels a pang in his gut as she glares at him like a stranger. He was supposed to watch her grow up. They were supposed to be family. 

“Who invited you?” Izzy asks. 

“I got a call—”

“Yea? With what phone asshole?” she snaps. “If you wanted to get rid of him so badly, why didn’t you just divorce him like a normal person?” 

Jack opens his mouth to answer, to say something about how he doesn’t want to divorce Kenny. He loves Kenny, even when he can’t always deal with him. Even when other things...most things, take priority over him. 

Luckily, Mariana saves him from making an ass of himself when he’s still on the verge of a panic attack. Or maybe he’s been having one since his mother called early this morning and hasn’t fully accepted that. 

“Jack, querido,” Mariana says as she hugs him tightly, rubbing his back. 

Jack trembles, clutching her tightly. He didn’t know how much he needed this. 

“How are you doing honey?” Mariana asks softly. 

“I…” his voice falters. He shakes his head. 

He isn’t ok. He isn’t fine or relieved to be here. He’s nothing. He’s numb at best, guilt ridden at worst. Marianna hugs him tighter, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

“Hey, jerk,” Izzy says with a resigned glare. “What? I don’t get a hug either?” 

Jack manages something like a laugh. It loosens some of the tightness in his chest. Izzy’s only an inch shorter than him. It’s comforting burying his head next to her dark brown curls. She looks a lot like Kenny did when he was sixteen, before he went on T. A few tears trail down his cheeks. He’s fucking smiling because he missed this. He missed having a family that gave a shit about him and not what he could produce. 

“You run away again and I’ll kill you,” Izzy says. 

Jack nods, hugging her tighter. He can live with that. 

Mariana takes him back to Kenny’s room. He watches from the door for a while, too scared to step any closer. Kenny’s chest is in a full cast along with his left arm. The heart rate monitors are going steady. Mariana walks over to Kenny, brushing the cowlicks out of his eyes. 

“Baby, you have a visitor,” she says.

Kenny parts his lips slowly. “Who?” he croaks. 

“Jack,” she says calmly. 

Kenny closes his eyes. “Ok,” he says. 

Jack doesn’t like how it comes out solemn and resigned. He doesn’t like how Kenny doesn’t know he’d fly anywhere in the entire universe to make sure he’s ok. Jack clenches his fist tightly, taking the painstaking steps toward the hospital bed. Kenny’s eyes are nearly black. He watches Jack like a wounded animal. Jack supposes that’s fair. He is injured, and Jack hasn’t given him any reason to trust him lately. 

“Hey Kenny,” he says softly. 

Kenny swallows. “Hey.” 

“I’ll let you two have a moment,” Mariana says, closing the door behind her. 

Kenny’s breathing is labored. He can’t tell if it’s from the cast (which has to be for broken ribs, he realizes) or because Jack’s presence is bothering him. 

“What happened,” Jack says finally, falling into the seat next to the bed. 

Kenny doesn’t look at him. His eyes focus on the TV playing some daytime talk show. It goes on like this for several minutes. He wants to scream at Kent to just tell him already. But he knows better now. That will get them nowhere fast. 

“I’m sorry,” Kenny says finally. 

Jack huffs. “I don’t want you to apologize. I want you to tell me what happened. You were fine last night—”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“At the game.”

Kenny’s eyes dim. The light shifts and they turn into more of a dull grey. 

“Right, the game,” Kenny says. “I...it was nothing, just an accident.” 

He knows better than to believe Kenny when his voice gets that soft, that passive. 

“Please, tell me what really happened,” Jack says, grabbing Kenny’s uninjured hand, squeezing it gently. 

Kenny breathes a little harder, licking his dry lips before sighing heavily. 

“They’re moving me to the psych ward after the surgeon releases me,” Kenny says. 

Jack clenches his hand tighter, causing Kenny to flinch. “I’m sor—”

“I wasn’t gonna leave you hanging, y’know?” he keeps talking. “I called like...a shit ton of times.” 

Jack closes his eyes. “Why?” he asks against his better judgment. 

He doesn’t want to know. But he needs to hear it. He needs to hear how failed—  

“To...to say goodbye,” Kenny whispers. “I just...I couldn’t go without telling you I love you. Just one more time.” 

Jack clenches his teeth. “Why?”

“Because I do.” 

“No,” Jack says bitterly. “Why would you leave me like that?” 

Kenny squeezes his hand back. “Why else? You’re better off without me.”

Jack gasps. 

“No, I’m not,” he insists. 

“Yea, that’s what they keep telling me,” Kenny says distantly. “It’s not just you, Zimms. Everyone’s better off without me.” 

“How long have you felt like this?” 

“All my life? I don’t know, what you do want me to say?” 

“That you don’t want to die,” Jack says bitterly. 

Kenny sighs. “I can’t. I don’t...living sucks, ok Jack? It’s miserable and lonely as shit. I don’t have anyone out here. I play a fucking sport that rips my body in half and go home to an empty apartment that reminds me I’m a fucking loser.”

Jack starts to protest, but Kenny keeps rambling. 

“And it’s fucking awful as shit, ok? People think I have some great, carefree life and my family thinks I have a great marriage. I don’t have anything. I don’t have anyone,” Kenny rasps. 

Jack pulls his seat closer to the hospital bed. He leans his head against Kenny’s temple. Kenny’s hair smells like coconut and sweat. He realizes that he got lucky. He could’ve lost this, lost the love of his life forever. His shoulders tremble as he starts to sob. 

Kenny shushes him. “Hey, it’s ok. It’s not...you didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.” 

Jack huffs, almost laughing. “You tried to kill yourself and you think I need comforting?” 

“Yea, so? I’m sorry, ok. I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

“Kenny,” he says quietly, kissing his cheek. “Think about yourself for once. I’m sad because you’re hurting.” 

“I’m ok.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am,” Kenny says again. This time his voice trembles. “Fuck you, Zimms. You don’t get to tell me how I feel.” 

Jack nods. “How do you feel?” 

Kenny licks his lips, closing his eyes. “Tired. I’m...I’m so fucking tired.” 

Jack kisses his cheek again. The tears in his eyes are thick, stopping him from seeing anything right. It’s ok though. He doesn't have to see to know Kenny’s alive. Kenny’s alive, he keeps telling himself. 

“I’m taking you home,” Jack says. “The minute you can fly, we’re going home.” 

Kenny’s lip trembles. “What about—”

“No, none of that matters,” he insists. “We’ll go home. Get you a therapist. Then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

“I...you have school, Jack,” he says. “And hockey. Isn’t your team in the playoffs?” 

Of course Kenny keeps track of his games. He’s just like Jack—bad at keeping a safe distance. 

“There’s always next year,” he murmurs. “If not, that’s ok.”

“No, jesus fuck, Jack, that’s your dream.” Kenny starts crying in earnest. “I can’t let you give up on that for me.” 

Jack kisses every corner of his face, trying to make Kenny believe him. 

“I would be if I let you go,” he says. “You’re my dream, Kenny. I want you, always.” 

They sob for a while after that. But eventually, they level out. They fall asleep murmuring the same three sentences to each other.  _ I’m sorry. I miss you. I love you.  _

Jack falls asleep holding Kenny’s hand as tightly as possible. He’s never letting go, ever again.          

**Author's Note:**

> fic title - lyrics from Don't Wanna Think by Julia Michaels


End file.
